


The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer

by trademarksatanist



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Christianity, Drabble, Freeform, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trademarksatanist/pseuds/trademarksatanist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to scream at Ragnar, wants to scream and scream until Ragnar tires of him and rips out his vocal chords, so he can finally die and leave this cursed land with it's innocent murderers. His entire soul is screaming at Ragnar to kill him, to end it, to stop prolonging his misery. Ragnar strides over and pulls his chin up, and he looks up with an desperation. No fight. No rebellion or secret meaning. He is completely vulnerable. His eyes beg for release. Ragnar gives it to him.<br/>He cuts the bonds around his neck. He is free, but not of this world.</p>
<p>(Or, In Which Athelstan Is Lost, But Safe With One Viking Family)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer

**Author's Note:**

> “Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
> The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
> Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
> Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
> The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
> The ceremony of innocence is drowned"  
> -W.B. Yeats

 

Ragnar told them, told them everything, they are going to attack England again.

It's all his fault.

More monks will fall, innocent people in the local towns will fall, and Althelstan practically drew them a map. He hates himself, but the betrayal stings. Ragnar seemed less savage than all these heathens, he had thought he could trust him.

They pass his brothers on the way back. They are strung up on wooden beams, their guiltless blood dried around their wounds. Athelstan stops. Ragnar tugs on the leash. Athelstan falls to his knees, and there is more than just a prayer in his mind.

He wants to scream at Ragnar, wants to scream and scream until Ragnar tires of him and rips out his vocal chords, so he can finally die and leave this cursed land with it's innocent murderers. His entire soul is screaming at Ragnar to kill him, to end it, to stop prolonging his misery. Ragnar strides over and pulls his chin up, and he looks up with an desperation. No fight. No rebellion or secret meaning. He is completely vulnerable. His eyes beg for release. Ragnar gives it to him.

He cuts the bonds around his neck. He is free, but not of this world.

He is told to run, if he wishes it; if he wishes certain death.

He is given the option, and he doesn't. He follows Ragnar home like a dog, and Althelstan tries to ignore the smug smirk on Ragnar's face when he does. He holds his head low and tries not to draw attention to himself. He goes back to the little mat in the little corner close enough to the fire to not freeze at night and hears Lagertha and Ragnar begin to make love, like they do most nights, and he tries to forget. He contents himself with counting the individual fibers in the roof.

He prays and prays, but it's more of a plea for it to end.

And then Ragnar and Lagertha have stopped, they stand before him with arms wide and warm bodies and Ragnar presses a gently kiss to the priest's head. He collapses into their arms, broken, sobbing. Tears streak down his face even as the couple presses gentle kisses to him skin. Lagertha touches him more softly than Ragnar, but they both touch him with a type of possession. Ragnar softly pulls him closer and traces kisses against his neck. Lagertha is practically in his lap, pressing her soft, soft lips against the stubble of his chin. He feels warm, but also crowded. Comforted; but disgusting. Loved by these vikings; hated by God.

“Join us priest.” Lagertha mutters. “Join our family. You need not be afraid any longer. No harm will come to you if you are loyal.”

He turns his face away when Ragnar seeks his lips. He can't, not after all this. They stop touching him once it becomes apparent that he is not accepting their advances, and they turn back to each other, kissing and touching in a much rougher fashion than the way they touched him. They don't make it back to the bed. The kiss and touch and fuck right in from of him, and Althelstan can't control the way his body reacts. He does not act on this desire though, which offers him only a slight bit of solace.

They lie in their sweat before him, blissful expressions on their faces like none he had seen before in the monastery, and he looks away. They do not fall asleep there, Ragnar gathers Lagertha up in his arms and carries her, smiling, back to their bed where they finally fall asleep.

Althestan feels the burns around his neck where he once had rope and stands.

He runs. The air is cold outside compared to his warm mat. He can feel the stones in his path through his thin sandals. His robes do not provide an adequate barrier against the cold sea wind.

He makes it only to the water and then he stops.

He falls to his knees and prays. He prays until his knees weep from the harsh gravel underneath, he prays until his head hurts, he prays until he has nothing else to pray for. He prays until the sun comes up in the morning and the waves begin to lick his tunic and then he stands. He brushes the stones from his bloody knees, stretches out his aching joints and goes to join the family in the house. The only family he has anymore. The only family that will take him.

He feels ashamed for begging for death. Death isn't were God wants him right now.

He thinks that perhaps this is where God wants him to be, not in a monastery, but with these savages who talk of the glory of war and killing and fucking. He does not have the faintest idea why, but when Ragnar smiles at him when he begins to help make breakfast is enough for that moment.

He doesn't feel alive, and God seems very far away.

But he doesn't feel dead, and that's something. That's something he could live with for a long time.  


End file.
